Chapter 3: Echoes of a Fool's Heart
The celebratory chatter in the Li family's grand dining room was a cacophony Li Yuwei barely registered. Her parents beamed, her relatives offered well wishes, and Shen Mochen, seated beside her, occasionally squeezed her hand beneath the table, a possessive gesture that used to send tremors of pure joy through her. Tonight was her engagement dinner, and the air was thick with expectation and the cloying scent of lilies.
But as a servant offered her a second glass of champagne, a sudden, sharp memory, like a shard of ice, pierced through the present's illusion.
Flashback - Four Years Later (From Engagement)
The clinic corridor smelled faintly of antiseptic and despair. Li Yuwei clutched the crumpled medical report in her trembling hand, her knuckles white. Negative. Again. Another month, another crushing disappointment. Her dream of a family with Mochen, a child to fill the cavernous space in their increasingly distant marriage, felt like a cruel joke.
She remembered walking into their penthouse, the silence of the vast, minimalist space amplifying her heartache. Mochen was at his desk, bathed in the cool blue glow of his monitor, his face a mask of intense concentration as he stared at stock market figures. He hadn't noticed her enter. He rarely did anymore.
"Mochen?" Her voice was a fragile whisper, thin with unshed tears.
He didn't look up immediately. "Hmm?"
"It's… it's negative again." She tried to keep her voice steady, to sound strong, but a sob escaped her throat, ragged and broken. "The doctor said maybe we should consider other options. IVF, or adoption, perhaps. My work schedule, it's just so demanding, perhaps if I took some time off—"
He finally looked at her then, his gaze cold, devoid of the warmth she desperately craved. "Yuwei, are you serious?" His tone wasn't angry, but utterly, dismissively weary. "You know how busy I am. And your 'work schedule'? You haven't stepped foot in the company in months. You resigned from the board to 'focus on us,' remember?"
He leaned back, a sigh escaping his lips. "Look, I thought we agreed. We have all the time in the world for children. Your focus should be on your health. And perhaps on being a supportive wife, rather than bringing me these… updates every month when I'm clearly busy."
He gestured vaguely at his screen, dismissing her pain, her dreams, her very presence. "I have a crucial merger coming up. Don't make things difficult. Just focus on relaxing. And frankly, your emotional state isn't conducive to anything right now."
He hadn't touched her. Hadn't offered comfort. Hadn't even seen the desperation in her eyes, the slow dying of her spirit. She had tried to be the perfect wife, abandoning her burgeoning career, distancing herself from friends who couldn't understand her all-consuming devotion, trying to sculpt herself into the ideal partner for him. And in return, she had become invisible. A shadow. A disappointment.
That night, she cried herself to sleep on the expansive, empty side of their king-sized bed, the weight of his indifference crushing her more surely than any physical blow. That was the night the first cracks appeared in her carefully constructed world, the night the naive girl began to die, long before the car crash sealed her fate.
End Flashback
Li Yuwei's hand clenched around the stem of her champagne flute, the delicate glass threatening to shatter under the pressure. The bright lights of the dining room suddenly seemed too harsh, the laughter too loud, the scent of lilies sickeningly sweet. She looked at Shen Mochen, now laughing softly at something her father said, his perfect profile illuminated by the chandelier.
He had called her "emotional." "Difficult." He had systematically eroded her confidence, her ambition, her very sense of self, all under the guise of "love" and "being supportive." The pain of that memory was still sharp, but it was no longer a wound that bled; it was a hardened scar, a reminder of the naive fool she had been.
I don't get even. I get ahead. Her mantra echoed in her mind, cold and clear. She would not just destroy his reputation; she would dismantle the very foundations of his empire, brick by agonizing brick, just as he had dismantled hers. And Li Meili, the snake in the grass, would suffer a fate far worse than simple exposure.
Li Yuwei took a slow, deliberate sip of her champagne, the bubbles dancing on her tongue, masking the bitter taste of remembrance. Shen Mochen glanced at her, a slight, curious lift of his brow. He seemed to sense a shift, a new stillness about her, but he couldn't possibly fathom its source.
She smiled then, a small, knowing smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "This champagne," she said, her voice smooth and deceptively light, "it's a bit too sweet, don't you think? Like promises easily made, and even more easily broken."
Shen Mochen frowned, his smile faltering. The barb was subtle, yet it hit something. He was used to her sweetness, not her sharpness. Li Yuwei just watched him, her inner voice a steel whisper: Do I look like a fool to you? Better check again.
The game had indeed begun.